Page 58 of The Chase
“I’ve seen a few things.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Last night—”
He reached for his napkin and placed it on his lap.
“When will Goya’sLa Maja Desnudago on sale?” I asked.
“Not sure.”
A silver-tiered platter of sandwiches was placed on the table, the lowest tier holding scones and a selection of rich pasties.
I paused until the waiter walked away and then whispered, “Why was the Goya hidden?”
Tobias held my stare. “Because that’s what men do with beautiful things.”
These undertones of sexual attraction made it hard to concentrate. I sensed he was fighting it too from the way his stare roamed over my body, that burn in his gaze morphing into confliction.
The way he broke into a heart-stopping smile. “It’s good to see you.” He reached for that jug of water and topped up my drink and then his own. “Let me know if you’d like anything else.”
I took a sip to quench my thirst. “How did you know it was behind the other painting?”
“This is scandalous, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“We should be drinking tea.” He raised his eyebrows. “As you know I’m a bad influence.”
“Tea would be lovely.”
He raised his hand for the waiter and when the man approached he asked for English breakfast tea.
The waiter scurried off.
“Where in America are you from?” I said.
“Massachusetts. Originally.”
“It’s pretty there?”
“Beautiful in the fall.”
“You miss it?”
“I travel a lot for work but love to go back when I can. I have a home there as well as an apartment in New York, Washington and, as you know, in Oxford. I call LA home.” He frowned as though regretting sharing that with me.
A pot of tea arrived and was placed between us. A teacup was set down to my left, and I poured a little milk in.
“Where is your family now?”
Having read about his parents, I wanted to stay far away from that kind of painful conversation. There’d been no mention of siblings when I’d read up on him.
“My only living relative lives in Paris.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Actually, he’s my favorite uncle.”
